


The Many Webs of Black Widow

by ashes0909



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Dialogue from movies, F/M, Hydra (Marvel), POV Natasha Romanov, Red Room, movie-level child abuse, movie-level violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-16
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-08-22 20:50:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8300572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashes0909/pseuds/ashes0909
Summary: Natasha’s lived many lives. Through it all there was one, singular constant: a mask she chose to wear.The Avengers weren’t the first people that made her want to take off that mask. There was Clint and Coulson and before that, a metal armed man that once knew too many of her secrets.She had tried to make homes in the past and knew one thing-- they usually ended in flames.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to MaryPopNLockins for beta-ing and amaranthium for the wordsmithing assist!
> 
> *Credits to Iron Man 2 for some of the dialogue.

Art by [amaranthium](http://archiveofourown.org/users/amaranthium)

_STALINGRAD 1988_

She looked straight ahead because straight ahead was where they ordered her to look.

The door opened, followed by the sound of rolling wheels on concrete, a metal-framed television placed in her line of sight. Madame B’s bony hand gripped into her shoulder.  “Ask me again, Natalia.”

The question. It was dangerous, she knew and still-- bravery. That’s what she’d been taught and this, more than anything, she needed to know. This, more than anything, she yearned to ask since discovering the concept. Now, at age six, she would be brave enough.

From under Madame B’s bony hand, Natalia stayed perfectly still as she repeated her question. “Where is my mother?”

The hand tightened against her shoulder, a familiar gesture of approval. “Guard, play the film.”

The person who had rolled in the television reached over and clicked on the VCR. Static lines and white noise filled the screen. Then it cleared into the grainy black and white footage of a hospital bed. A woman in stirrups screamed, hands gripping the side of the bed, cursing in Russian then French. Her hair was dark and matted to her forehead with sweat, Natalia could only see her face when she threw her head back in pain but she knew immediately that it was her mother.

Her breath held for a second, just a gasp between one inhale and the next but it was enough for Madame B’s hand to pinch into the tendon of her shoulder. A reminder.

Natalia Romanova was supposed to be made of marble.

Her mother screamed again, the sound breaking off with a sob and then a stream of words Natalia could only half understand. “It’s time, Doctor, please, please, _pozhaluysta!_ ”  Natalia watched tears fall openly from her mother’s eyes as her body clenched and pushed. In between the struggle she forced air into her body, composing herself for the next round of labor pains.

Hours passed.

Natalia sat like marble and watched her mother twist in agony, as doctors came and left. No drugs were ever administered. It was easy to become numb to the screaming.

Even knowing the woman on screen to be her mother, after the initial shock it became a fact like any other. One she could store away and process at a time when Madame B’s hand was not on her shoulder; she was marble.

And then her mother’s eyes met the camera and Natalia saw herself in them. The same almond shaped eyes and the same narrow chin. Her mouth hung open in a soundless scream until, finally, the crying of a infant broke her mother’s focus. Natalia’s cries, from six years ago.

She was marble. The burning in her chest simply meant that she needed to take in more oxygen. The blurring of her vision meant only that she needed to focus, keep her eyes on the screen because those were her orders, but internally focus elsewhere. That was her training, that was what she excelled in.

On the screen, her mother reached for her and Natalia watched as a nurse placed her tiny body into her mother’s awaiting arms. The mother and infant quieted and Natalia felt a tear escape down her cheek. Madame B’s hand left her shoulder.

The door of the hospital room opened, startling the three of them. High-pitched cries of a newborn only grew as a Doctor came to remove her from her mother’s embrace.

“Natalia Romanova was born on November 22, 1982 in Stalingrad to Agent X12SA also known as Natalia Romanova.” The nurse wrote down the Doctor’s words.

Her mother reached out, trying to lift herself from the bed but she was still tied into the stirrups. The Doctor passed Natalia off to an awaiting nurse and the crying continued, desperate and unrelenting as her mother tried to use her weight to push herself from the bed, yelling in Russian for her child.

The Doctor stepped forward between Natalia’s mother and her infant self. He spoke calmly, brushing a hand over her sweaty brow, calming her even as the newborn continued to cry.

Once her mother quieted, the Doctor took a step back. He reached into the pocket of his white medical coat and pulled something out, pointing it at her mother. From her angle, Natalia could not see the object but she could see her mother’s eyes widen in fear. A loud bang echoed around the room.

With one shot to the forehead, her mother was dead.

The screen returned to static lines and white noise.

~~~

_STARK TOWER 2010_

“It’s called dirty boxing and there’s nothing new about it.” A man’s voice, Stark’s chauffeur if Natalie’s suspicions were correct, could be heard from around the corner. A Notary from legal would know about Happy Hogan, he was a constant presence by Mr. Stark’s side.

“All right, put ‘em up. Come on!” Stark said to Happy as Pepper pushed open the door to the gym. Natalie made sure to smile when Pepper looked over her shoulder, an uncertain one pasted expertly across her face.

“It really is easier for us to seek him out than wait for him to come to Legal.”

“Of course, Ms. Potts,” Natalie replied, ever pleasant and polite.

Natalie Rushman was adaptable.

As they entered the gym, Stark and Happy’s attention fell towards her. Their boxing lesson was easily forgotten because Natalie Rushman was beautiful, even standing next to Pepper Potts.

“I promise this is the only time I will ask you to sign over your company,” Pepper said around a smile as Natalie stood behind Stark Industries soon-to-be CEO, a folder in hand.

“I need you to initial each box,” were the first words she said to Tony Stark. She let her face adapt a smirk, nothing too flirtatious but friendly enough to seem interested, approachable. She kept her eyes wide and her posture straight, a professional but captivating demeanor she kept far from seductive. Stark would rise to the temptation; it was her mission to become his assistant and she never failed a mission.

Happy spoke from the boxing ring and Stark kept their gazes locked even as he kicked his foot out and connected it with his chauffeur.

“That’s it. I’m done.” Tony announced. “What’s your name lady?”  
  
“Rushman. Natalie Rushman”

He lifted the ropes of the boxing ring, gesturing her inside. “Front and center. Come into the church.”  
  
"No,” Pepper cut in. “You’re seriously not gonna ask…”  
  
Tony beamed. "If it pleases the court, which it does.”

She needed to keep Stark’s attention on her, so she turned to Pepper with averted eyes, appearing demure. “Its no problem.” And it wasn't because Natalie was adaptable, appeasing, appealing.

“I’m sorry,” Pepper began, ever the professional. “He’s very eccentric.”

For a Stark, the word was an understatement.

She’d first heard the surname in the hallways of Hydra. The Commanders were referring to Stark the senior then, and it had to do with alien technology and arctic expeditions, not metal suits of armor. She’d been no older than eight, and it was surprising what people would say in front of a child, even one trained in the Red Room. She filed words away, even if she did not understand them.

_Tesseract, Stark, the Winter Soldier._

Like his father, the Stark bouncing in the boxing ring was a known genius. But it was this man that had turned the name into a household one. Stark was the name chiseled into every cell phone and Starkpad because of him. It was Tony that graced the red carpet and the tabloids, not Howard. It was Tony that flirted with everything that walked into his line of sight.

It was Tony that created Iron Man.

For those many reasons, SHIELD wanted an eye on Stark junior and, as she lowered between the ropes of the boxing ring, it was obvious Tony wanted an eye on Natalie Rushman.

She maintained eye-contact. It wasn’t particularly difficult but it was important. Maintain a level of intimacy, create a sense of curiosity. Make him want to know her more. The corner of her mouth tugged into the barest hint of a smile and she new she had him. It was evident in the way he stared a little too long, sipped at his water bottle even longer. He blinked a few times as he lowered it, eyes never leaving hers.

“What?” Stark asked, but she hadn’t said anything so she didn’t reply. Still, she let her amusement dance in her eyes.

“Can you give her a lesson?” Stark asked Happy and then he was out of the boxing ring and just out of earshot as he spoke with Pepper.

She didn’t need to hear their conversation to know Stark was convincing Pepper to make her his assistant. Still, she kept her attention on the pair even as Happy began his boxing lesson.

“You ever boxed before?”

“I have, yes”

Happy smiled, continued to bounce with his fists up.“What, like, the Tae Bo? Booty Boot Camp? Crunch? Something like that?”

Less than five minutes later, she flipped the man over her shoulder and left him bruised on the mat. Natalie Rushman modeled in Tokyo, spoke five languages, there could be some conceivable reason for her to know advanced self-defense skills.

Madame B would’ve punished her for breaking cover, even a slip could open one up to unwanted questions. But Tony Stark hardly seemed to notice and Madame B was dead.

It was easy to get Stark’s fingerprint and hold his attention even with his friend moaning on the mat. Then she turned and left, letting a small smile escape when she felt Stark and Pepper’s eyes on her back. It was a short walk back to legal.

“I want one,” she heard Stark say as the door closed.

Before Natasha could react, a voice from above said, “Please continue down the hallway to the awaiting elevator.” Natasha had read about JARVIS but Natalie had never heard of him before. She jumped, startled. “I am sorry to surprise you, miss...”

“Natalie. Natalie Rushman.” Her eyes searched frantically for cameras, any source of the sound.

“I am Tony Stark’s AI system, Ms. Rushman. You need not look for me as I am everywhere.”

Natalie chuckled, lifted her hand to push back a stray lock of hair. “That’s ominous.”

“You are not the first to say so.”

She paused, waiting for the AI to say more but when he didn’t she continued towards the elevator. “Thank you for the directions.”

“You are welcome. Ms. Rushman. From Legal?”

“Yes.”

“I see.” The words sounded like a question. “I seem to have misplaced your employee file.”

“I’m new,” Natalie said, words smooth because Natalie had nothing to hide. “My file isn’t in the system yet. They said it would take a week.”

“I see.” Another pause, the elevator doors opened. “Level five, legal.”

“Level seven,” Natalie corrected, and she knew JARVIS suspected something but had no idea what the AI would do with the information.

Fury would not be pleased.

~~~

_UNKNOWN LOCATION 1992_

A bit of dust played in the light from the Red Room’s grand window and Natalia spun, once, twice, three times in a pirouette. Sweat dripped from her brow, down her neck, but the metronome continued in the corner and that meant she must continue to spin.

A knock on the door was followed by a Hydra Agent intruding upon the dance hall without waiting for Madame B to answer.

Spinning and spinning, if the interruption was anything other than an emergency or a Commander the Red Room’s dance floor would live up to its name. And it wouldn't be the first Hydra Agent executed for interrupting Madame B’s dance lesson.

The Hydra Agent stepped back to let a figure pass through the door.

Spinning and spinning, broad shoulders in black cotton as a man entered. Light caught on metal.

The click of Madame B’s heels on the dance floor, the metronome shut off and Natalia staggered to a stop. Around her the sound of girls catching their breath but she stood silent, a marble statute ready to comply.

“We need a girl,” the Hydra Agent who had knocked said.

Madame B nodded then looked over at the imposing figure in the corner. In the shadows, it was hard for Natalia to make out his face but she could observe his metal arm easily.  “A mission?”

“Yes,” the Hydra Agent replied then turned to the man in the corner. “Choose.”

The girls had lined up automatically and the metal armed man surveyed the dancers from his dark corner. In his stare was a cold calculation she did not need to see to feel.

“Your best?” The man stepped out of the shadow as he asked the question and Natalia was able to see him, jaw strong and hair falling to his shoulder. His eyes were harder, colder than she had sensed.

She kept her surprised expression hidden even as the girl next to her staggered in her step. Natalie pictured the lashes she’d get later, despite their instructor ignoring the motion.

Madame B never forgot a mistake.

“Natalia,” Madame B answered his question and although Natalia knew the answer, she couldn’t suppress the prickle of satisfaction that shot down her spine despite the lashes she’d get if Madame B noticed. Natalia had to remind herself that what Madame B stated was a matter of fact, not preference.

The man with the metal arm stepped forward, his weight creaking against the wooden dance floor. He walked down a line, starting at the youngest dancer on the far left, walking behind Natalia and passed her without a glance.

She held her breath as he passed, face towards the mirrors as expected but the hairs on her neck stood, as if the air around him was electrified.

“Her.” From the mirror, Natalia could tell that he was pointing toward Margarette. She was one of the older girls, built wide and stocky and her face twisted with satisfaction as her reflection met Natalia’s. Margarette had been chosen, even if Madame B considered Natalia the best.

The Red Room trained its assassins for this moment. Once they were chosen their graduation was accelerated, no matter the age of the girl. Once they were chosen for a mission, be it at six or nine or twelve, they never return. Her eyes left Margarette’s with a warring sense of relief and disappointment.

The metal armed man was watching her through the mirror, his brow furrowed and eyes dark. She countered his stare, smooth and even. Blank, like she’d been taught. A person would read into a blank stare what they wanted or what they feared or what they needed. Or they would see her training, but they would never see the truth behind her stare.

The metal armed man raised an eyebrow. The corner of his mouth curled in amusement. She wondered, why he hadn’t he chosen her? Was there something he wanted that Madame B’s best could not provide?

The opposite corner of his mouth lifted into a smile and Natalia knew he’d seen her questions flash in her eyes. His head shook, a minute movement, still smirking as if trying to share a joke  but the Red Room did not believe in humor. Least of all from metal armed Hydra agents who did not select her best dancer for missions.

Natalia finally dropped her eyes to the dance floor and let the heavy steps pass her, followed by Margarette’s lighter ones.

She wondered for days after if she had imagined the exchange between herself and the the metal armed man in the mirror.

She had to wait almost a decade to find out why he had not chosen her.

~~~

_SHIELD HEADQUARTERS 2010_

One of the first decisions Natalia made in her life was to defect to SHIELD. Sometimes, like when she would sit across from Clint Barton in the mess hall, the man flicking peas into his cup of water, Natasha wondered why she had chosen to follow him and leave Hydra.

“Coulson wants us to be ready at any moment for a mission, it makes sense to stay here,” Clint said. Again.

“And what would Stark think, if he saw me wandering around the SHIELD headquarters?”

“You’d know when he’s coming,” Clint grinned. “You’re his Personal Assistant.”

“Natalie Rushman is his personal assistant,” Natasha corrected.

He flicked a pea against her cheek. “Same thing.”

Natasha flicked the next pea away, changing its direction so it hit Clint square in the center of his forehead. “If you believe that, you’re a horrible spy.”

“I don’t even know what I’m saying at this point, Nat.” He pouted, actually stuck his front lip out and Natasha wondered why she was surprised. “I just want you back at the base.”

She couldn’t suppress her eyeroll. “You’re like a child who lost his favorite plaything.”

“Exactly! You not being here, it’s starting to affect my sleep, Nat.” He yawned and stretched, arms twisting over his head. “Do you want to be the reason why my aim is off on our next Strike Team mission?”

“You’re ridiculous.” Natasha couldn’t suppress her smile and Madame B would be rolling in her grave if Natalia hadn’t burned her body. “I won’t be going on any Strike Team Zero missions until Fury says I’m done with Stark.”

“Nat,” Clint whined. “I’m bored! Strike Team Zero was three missions away from beating Fury’s record, that's the only reason he placed you on billionaire detail.”

“And that’s ridiculous as well.” Natasha smirked, “Though probably accurate.”

Clint leaned in, eyes suddenly serious. “Coulson told me it was actually because we were closing in on the Winter Soldier.”

She didn’t even have time to mask her surprise. And Clint wasn’t a fool, no matter how much he liked to play one. He leaned forward, peas forgotten. “You knew him.”

It wasn’t a question and Natasha wouldn’t lie to him, not about this, not when he’d eventually learn the truth. So instead she remained silent.

“Damn,” Clint whispered. “That’s probably why they pulled us.”

Natasha hated it but she knew he was correct. Even if Fury didn’t know all the details of her past, he wouldn’t risk the connection.

“And that’s why I’m babysitting Stark.”

Clint lifted his pea filled water for a toast. Natasha did not raise her own glass, but Clint never seemed to care.

“To Hydra ghosts, for keeping us off the fun assignments.”

“That’s a horrible toast.”

“Well, you’re a horrible ex-Hydra agent that knows too many evil spy people that potentially create undercover op issues, so boo you.”

Natasha smirked around her water glass before lifting it in a mock salute of her own. “To Clint’s temper tantrums.”

Clint snorted. “Whatever, go back to Stark if you must.”

“Those are the orders. I’ll be back when I return from Monaco.”

“I’ll be here,” Clint sighed, dramatically. “Waiting for a mission that doesn’t involve any of your ex-Hydra buddies.”

~~~


	2. Chapter 2

_ STARK TOWER 2010 _

Her job should not include dressing billionaires on their birthdays, but here she was presenting Tony Stark with an array of watches. Natalie’s modest heels clicked along the tile as she carried them into Stark’s quarters.

Fury had tasked her with the mission: determine if Stark was fit for the Avengers Initiative and learn as much about the Iron Man suit as possible. She fulfilled the first part of her assignment within five minutes of meeting the man. It was obvious he could not be relied on. She saw his poisoned chest reflected in the mirror as she walked in the room, Tony Stark was unwell. A fact she had reported to Fury, who required her to remain at her post and gather information. And now she was here, carrying a case of watches-- orders, missions. 

Apparently the man still thought he was keeping up his facade, considering the way he quickly closed his shirt and turned away from the mirror.  “I should cancel the party.”

“Probably.” Natalie kept her conversation agreeable, unthreatening. 

“Yeah, cause it’s…”

“Ill-timed.”

“Right, sends the wrong message.”

“Inappropriate.” Ridiculous. Excessive. Irresponsible. Erratic. Natalie kept her face still while Natasha yelled in her mind,  _ You’re dying you imbecile. And you’re throwing a party when Vanko’s on the run, when you can hardly stand without the suit. Aren’t you supposed to be a genius? _

He kept his eye on her because she was beautiful, not because he cared about her opinion. He took the drink she offered with a curt smile but then, surprisingly, dropped his gaze. 

Apparently, now she made him uncomfortable. 

“Is that dirty enough for you?” She gestured to the martini.

He turned away from her advance, not taking the bait that would push their professional relationship into a more intimate one. Maybe he wasn’t entirely irresponsible, after all.

“Gold face, brown hand. The Jaeger. I’ll give that a look. Bring them over.” She handed over the box of watches and sat by his side. Stark looked up at her with those wide searching eyes before turning a cheek, allowing her to blot makeup on the remains of his fight with Vanko. “I gotta say. It’s hard to get a read on you. Where are you from?”

“Legal,” Natalie replied, again, smooth as silk because if Stark wanted more information, he’d have to be more direct. 

Something about her answer must have unnerved him because he had to swallow before speaking again. “Can I ask you a question, hypothetically? Bit odd.” He rubbed his forehead, avoiding eye contact. It was the least put together she had ever seen Tony Stark. “If this was your last birthday party you were ever gonna have, how would you celebrate it?”

An honest question from a man who so often hid behind masks. It deserved an honest answer. “I’d do whatever I wanted to do, with whomever I wanted to do it.” Memories flooded her mind, a metal hand on her waist as snow piled up against a city window, techno beats from across the room, naked skin on skin.

She acknowledged that every birthday could be her last. 

~~~~

_ UNDISCLOSED LOCATION NOVEMBER 22, 2002 _

Twenty. She never thought she’d live to see this age. 

Perched high above a plaza under the shadow of an abandoned skyscraper, Natalia waited for her mark. It would’ve been like any other mission, if not for the presence by her side. 

The Winter Soldier had not said a word since they began this mission thirty-seven hours prior. He had grunted and nodded, shook his head, growled. But he had yet to utter a word to her.  

She kept an eye on the plaza. Three children kicked around a ball, an elderly couple sat on the bench nearby. Their mark was nowhere in sight. “Today’s my birthday,” she whispered into the wind. The fabric that covered the broken window shook under the breeze. She felt his eyes fix on her. 

“Happy Birthday.” The words, spoken in Russian across the broken window, were clearer than Natalia expected they would be. She watched as he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a leather bound notebook. Flicking through the pages, he landed on one with today’s date and a list of names with instructions scribbled underneath. He tapped the page twice then closed the notebook. “You can take the mark,” he said. “As a-” he lifted his biological hand, waved it in an ungainly gesture, before using it to pull his baseball cap farther down his forehead. “-A gift. For you.”

Natalia stirred. No one had given her a gift since the Red Room. “Thank you.”

They returned their focus to the plaza, the wind covered their silence. 

“I remember you,” the Winter Soldier said hours, or maybe minutes, later. Time hardly mattered on a stakeout, only the mark. 

“I remember you.” She wanted to mention him not choosing her, to ask all the questions she had for him decades before. Natalia wanted. She remained still, marble, leaning against the window frame. 

The silence fell again, but she was not surprised when he broke it again. “Madame B, she is infamous.” Natalia remained silent because the fact didn’t require a reply. “Her girls are trained, talented. But they are not indispensable.” Natalia gripped the window so that she wouldn’t clench her jaw. It didn’t matter, he could still see how his words affected her. “The girl we took, instead of you…”

The Winter Soldier trailed off, eyes fixated on Natalia and it was like he peeled away her training, saw the six year old girl in the chair who asked too many questions. It was like she never learned the hard truths, never turned to become marble, because she had wondered for all these years why the fabled Winter Soldier had not chosen her. 

He stepped forward, his shadow moving along the fabric that covered the window until it stopped in front of her own. Lifting his hand, she felt the brush of his metal fingers against her red hair. Most men would end up on the floor, bloody and broken, if they touched her without permission. Apparently, Natalia realized, the Winter Soldier was different.

She lifted her chin and met his gaze, a hushed whisper she could barely hear over the wind escaped his lips. “That girl was cannon fodder.” 

Natalia had not expected these words. She took a step back, nearly tripping on a plank of wood. “The mission,” he continued, “required a girl to obtain access to a specific target, but we also needed the target’s identity to remain completely anonymous. My orders were to kill the girl after the target was secure.”

The wind blew the fabric around the Winter Soldier’s legs. “Your reputation preceded you, even when you were in the Red Room.”

Something settled inside her, a doubt that she hadn’t known she’d been hoarding. She could hear Madame B’s voice chastising her for seeking validation from the Winter Soldier, a man, an assassin; for seeking validation from anyone. 

The Winter Soldier returned to his side of the window, but every so often Natalia would feel his gaze on her. When the mark arrived he handed over his sniper rifle, and she would’ve brushed it away but this kill was his so he had brought the weaponry. 

The rifle felt comfortable on her shoulder, palm fitting easily around the handguard. She expected the Winter Soldier to watch the mark, but she felt the weight of his eyes on her as she focused her attention to the scope. 

Everything else faded away. Through the scope she could see the mark, a brunet man in his late twenties wearing a red polo shirt. The unfortunate color turned her mark into a living target. Her breathing slowed, everything stilled, she followed the man until he passed the children playing with the ball, turned the corner into a small alley and-- Click. Her finger curved along the trigger as she absorbed the recoil of the rifle through her shoulder, still as marble.  

Below, the screaming began.

“Good,” the Winter Soldier said, hand curling around Natalia’s arm as he pulled her back from the window. She brushed him off, gave him the rifle before grabbing her backpack and running further into the abandoned building.

Before she reached the nearby stairwell, she stopped and looked over her shoulder. The Winter Soldier remained by the window, watching her instead of the chaos of the plaza. His eyes were narrowed with curiosity and she felt a smirk line her face. “Are you just going to stand there staring? We need to move.”

“You enjoyed that,” the Winter Soldier replied. 

“The mark?” 

“Yes.”

Natalia shrugged, a small gesture of doubt that she stifled as soon as she realized she was doing it. “I appreciate any practice with a sniper rifle. My expertise is in--”

“Hand to hand combat,” the Winter Soldier cut in. He reached for his backpack and jogged over to the stairwell, stopping in front of Natalia. “I know.”

Natalia pushed open the door to the stairwell, the emergency lights lit every other floor but provided enough light for them to see. “Because my reputation preceded me?”

“Because anyone smart enough to survive in this business knows, Natalia Romanova can eliminate multiple targets with her thighs alone.”

Natalia chuckled and the sound of it surprised her, it’d been a long time since she’d laughed on a mission, but she was too distracted by what she was almost certain was a smirk on the Winter Soldier’s face.

A door opened below, footsteps and flashlights. The Winter Soldier pushed open the door and led them through an empty floor, out a window, and into the night.

~~~

_ DOUGHNUT SHOP 2010 _

_ “Anyone smart enough to survive in this business knows--” _

“You’re fired.” The electric hum of the suit, shifting and bending when Stark turned in his seat was so familiar-- similar to another man another her once knew, a man with a bionic arm. 

“That’s not up to you.” 

“Tony,” Fury said. “I want you to meet Agent Romanoff.”

“Hi,” he mumbled but she was already talking over him. “I’m a SHIELD shadow. Once we knew you were ill, I was tasked to you by Director Fury.”

“I suggest you apologize.”

No, she shouldn’t, because Tony Stark was supposed to be a genius. He should’ve been smart enough-- between him and JARVIS and Iron Man --to figure her out. So it was easy to maintain his gaze, even as he sat in the Iron Man suit with sunglasses on his face, looking ridiculous and offended. 

End of Mission. 

Assessment complete. Tony Stark: volatile, self-obsessed, doesn’t play well with others.

“You’ve been very busy,” Fury said. “You made your girl your CEO, you’re giving away all your stuff. You let your friend fly away with your suit. Now, if I didn’t know better…”

“You don’t know better. I didn’t give it to him. He took it.”

Natasha snorted inside but her face remained smooth. Fury laughed. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. He took it? You’re Iron Man and he just took it? The little brother walked in there, kicked your ass and took your suit? Is that possible?”

Natasha tilted her head, eyes still on Stark because while he was unable to see through her disguise, he was clear as glass. “Well, according to Mr Stark’s database security guidelines, there are redundancies to prevent unauthorized usage.”

“What do you want from me?”

“What do we want from you? What do you want from me?” Fury responded and Natasha knew it was her cue, knew that they were going to dangle the cure in front of Stark like a carrot, leading him right to their trap. But apart of her was relieved, because she had seen the viscous veins of poison up his neck, down his chest, and she knew they were painful. Tony Stark may be an asshole but he didn’t deserve to endure constant pain. He was a good friend to some at times, a genius always and, well, he may be an egotistical maniac but at least he was on the side of World Peace. So when Fury said, “Hit him,” it was easy to press her finger down and administer the injection.  

“Oh, God, are gonna steal my kidney and sell it? Could you please not do anything awful for five seconds? What did she just do to me?”

_ Saved your life, Stark.  _

“What did we just do for you? That’s lithium dioxide. It’s gonna take the edge off. We’re trying to get you back to work.”  
  


~~~

_ SOUTH CHINA SEA - 40,000 FEET - 2010 _

“I don’t even know the guy, but man, I wish I was there to see his face when he found out you weren’t the demure notary-slash-ex-model of his wet dreams.”

Coulson, sitting next to Clint in the booth looking over paperwork, rolled his eyes in the way only he could. A roll that paused at the top of his eye then fell because he had more important things to do than to roll his eyes at your shenanigans. 

Natasha rarely received the roll, but Clint was a frequent instigator of the action. 

“You’re crude.” 

“Yes.” Clint nodded, proud. 

“He always knew there was something suspicious with me, just underestimated me too much to connect me with SHIELD. If I’d guess, he thought I was a spurned lover or a fascinated fangirl. He’ll learn from the mistake though, which is a small point in his favor.”

“Wow,” Coulson let his lips curl up at the word. “A compliment from you?”

“I did approve him as a consultant. The man has a lot to offer as is and, if motivated, is capable of some sort of selflessness. Or maybe more like non-selfishness.”

“Yea, Nat. Go with that.”

“A man that requires his own lexicon isn’t one I want to be issuing paperwork.” 

“Fury still wants me to keep an eye on him.”

“Fury wants you to keep an eye on Stark Industries,” Coulson corrected.

“And the Iron Man suit, which is essentially Tony.”

The PA clicked on overhead. “Strike Team Zero, mission control. We are approaching the drop point.”

“Gossip breaks over boys,” Natasha stood from the booth and continued to the hanger of the plane.

~~~

_ CALIFORNIA 2010 _

The sky rained Hammer Tech modified Iron Man suits, Vanko successfully hacked into the War Machine, and she was forced to work on a team with Tony Stark and company.

Lucky, lucky, her. 

“What are you doing?” Happy was behind her doing everything he could not to pace in the cramped office, unhelpful. He should be in the car like she suggested. Her fingers keep moving along the keyboard. 

“I’m rebooting Rhodey’s suit.” The code scrolled by on the computer screen quicker than she could read but she didn’t need to read, she just needed to type. 

> **\-- processing script**
> 
> **local input_stream = alias [ 'input_stream' ]**
> 
> **local output_stream = alias [ 'output_stream' ]**
> 
>  
> 
> **local constant = 23.456**
> 
> **local lastvalue = nil**
> 
>  
> 
> **local function process (var1, var2, var3)**
> 
> **if var1 > var2 then -- compare values**
> 
> **output_stream.value = var1 * var3 -- save data to output stream**
> 
> **end**
> 
> **end**

“Reboot complete,” she announced to the now connected Iron Man and War Machine suits. “You got your best friend back.”

“Thank you very much, Agent Romanoff.” She could almost hear the gratitude through the voice modulator and Natasha knew of her impulse to become more generous in response and she usually suppressed it. Here, she complimented him anyway. 

“Well done on the new chest piece,” she said, and wondered if that was the first compliment she had ever given the man. “I am reading significantly higher output and your vitals all look promising.” 

“Yes, for the moment, I’m not dying.” Gunshots from Hammer’s suits blared through the connection. “Thank you.”

Pepper’s image appears on second screen. “What do you mean you’re not dying? Did you just say you’re dying?”

“Is that you?,” Tony asked, casual as always, despite fighting military grade iron man suits mid-flight. “No, I’m not. Not anymore.”

If he had told anyone about the palladium poisoning, it would’ve been Pepper. Always so foolish, so self-destructive, a martyr without a cause. But she knew that was a lie, even without hearing the gunshots in the background as he lured the compromised suits away from populated areas. 

There were at least fifty of them still operational, all coded to kill Iron Man on sight. War Machine would be a target too, because there was no way James Rhodey would let Tony Stark face the fight alone. She did her best to knock them off, thin the herd before they made contact.

“You were gonna tell me? You really were dying?” Pepper’s voice was panicked, clearly focusing on the wrong battle. 

“I was gonna make you an omelette and tell you.” Tony sounded contrite, almost apologetic. Natasha hadn’t thought he had it in him.

It made her uncomfortable. “Hey, hey. Save it for the honeymoon. You got incoming Tony. Looks like the fight’s coming to you.”

“Great. Pepper?”

The woman sniffed over the connection, took a deep breath and composed herself into the CEO Natalie admired. “Are you okay now?

“I’m fine. Don’t be mad. I will formally apologize when I’m not fending off a Hammeroid attack.” Natasha raised her eyebrow towards Happy at their flirting, the man shrugged and looked away. This was neither the time nor the place, but leave it to Tony Stark not to give a damn.

“Fine.”

”We could have been in Venice,” Tony reminded. 

“Oh  _ please _ .”

~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MANY thanks to Silver for help with the coding and Fanfiction Discord Chat, my sis, and fiance for the beta-ing. 
> 
> *Credits to Iron Man 2 for some of the dialogue.
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed! :)


	3. Chapter 3

_LONDON 2004_

Natalia followed her mark through the cobblestone alley, collar lifted against the late October chill. Her mark was a courier girl, hardly an adult but somehow mixed in with the Rathkeale Rovers. They were gangsters that specialized in exotic species trade and, who more recently, thought it was a good idea to expand into alien tech.

They were wrong and Hydra sent the Black Widow to make that clear.

The girl in front of her was nothing but a gopher, a pretty face that no one would expect. Except, she was stupid enough to utter the word Rathkeale in a coffeeshop. Natalia had only been in the city for a fortnight when the lead fell into her lap, courtesy of Penelope Harrold.

It was the middle of the afternoon and the alley was empty, but still, she waited until the mark turned into the narrow walkway.The brick corner Natalia hid behind kept her from view and made it oh, so, easy to sneak up on the unsuspecting girl. With her palm full of cloth and chlorophyll, it only took one shocked breath before the courier girl’s knees weakened.

Penelope Harrold was an easy identity to assume. Under the shadow of the alley, Natalia began the transition.

Penelope walked with a bounce in her step to hide her deeper feelings of fear and discomfort. She kept her coat pulled tight because Penelope was uncomfortable in the indecent cocktail dress the Rovers provided. Natalia made sure to slide the hard drive from underneath the mark’s bra. Changing in an alley was a risk, but after disposing of the body she moved forward as Penelope.

Three more turns and a shadow fell across the alley, darkening her path. There were cameras on her, she knew, in the way the hair on the back of her neck stood, but Penelope continued forward, seemingly unaware.

The light above the metal door flickered and Penelope cringed as she lifted her hand to knock against the door’s chipped paint, she did not like germs-- Penelope wiped her teacup before sipping from its surface. But still she knocked, a little hesitant, like it was the last place she actually wanted to be knocking.

A fist knocked back from the other side of the door and Penelope jolted in shock, tripping over a piece of cardboard discarded on the floor, before lifting her hand and mirroring the sound.

A muscular man with hooded eyes opened the door and the heavy sound of base hit her square in the chest. She had to squint to see beyond the smoke and laser lights as the doorman lead her inside and around the side of the wall, away from the bodies that crowded the dance floor midweek, midday, in the middle of a London residential area. Penelope let her surprise show.

Beyond a set of swinging doors, she followed the doorman into the kitchen. The room erupted with noise, the chef yelling orders over a sizzling sauce pan, staff shuffling to comply. “Leave your coat here,” the doorman yelled, pointing to hook on the door.

Penelope did not like the tint of his smile as he said the words, but they did not surprise her. She was a beautiful girl, after all, and familiar with unwanted attention.

“Is that the girl?” A voice shouted from a nearby hallway that Penelope noticed led to a stairwell. “Send her up and go back out front.”

The doorman let his eyes drag over Penelope’s body as he took a step closer. Only a few inches taller than her, but he was still able to box her into the corner. The man’s bicep was larger than both of hers combined. Penelope tried to stand her ground even as her eyes fell to the floor. “Make sure you swing by on your way out. We can have a dance.”

Penelope smiled weakly even as internally Natalia struggled to keep the laughter from her face.

“Mike!”

He stepped back, frowning as he called up the stairs, “She’s coming!” Then he all but pushed her down the hallway. She tripped up the first step, stockings catching on the wood, snagging and truly completing her “bad decisions” chic look.

At the top of the stairs, the door was open and a man with thinning grey hair had his head down, eyes on a folder. In front of the desk, two broad shouldered men stood at attention facing a huge portrait that hung over the desk. Neither turned as she knocked on the doorframe, but the man looked up from the file, his wrinkled face smoothing into a smile.

“Ah, Ms. Harrod. I believe you have something of mine.” Penelope stepped forward, eyes darting towards the men. “John, take the hard drive.”

Penelope’s face reddened, hands rising to the side of her bra.

“Oh, is it somewhere extra secure?” The old man leaned back in his leather chair, chuckling. “The Rathkeale Rovers appreciate your dedication.”

They were toying with her, and had been since she had turned the corner into the dark alley when surveillance cameras had their sights on her. Pick a pretty girl, make her their courier , gain an extra special target to tease. John the henchman reached over, as if to slide his hand into her bra.

Penelope, who was used to handsy Londoners, smacked his hand away without a thought. “I got it.”

“Yea, John,” the other henchman joked, “she’s got it, she--” He turned towards them and Natalia’s heart stopped. She was looking into the familiar steel colored eyes of the Winter Soldier. Her gaze dropped to his hand, the one that should be metal, but was covered with a glove instead. It clenched into a fist under her stare.

“--she doesn’t need you helping her out of her cocktail dress, John,” he finished the sentence. Smooth. Disciplined. His face became clearer as his hand unclenched. He was undercover; she was undercover and even as her heart raced, even as she wanted to ask him so many questions, she pulled the flash drive out of the side of her bra, unable to move without the dress pushing her cleavage together.

She felt their eyes ogling her breasts and knew, neither of the two men had noticed or remembered the interaction between her and the Winter Soldier.

~~~

_MANHATTAN 2011_

“What do you mean, you have, ‘no opinion’ about me flying into the middle of the freakin desert?” Clint’s indignation blared through her cell phone and she considered hanging up on him because Natasha really did not like repeating herself, but sorting through Pepper Potts’ new messages was incredibly dull and she liked the distraction.

“Orders are orders, Barton, what do want me to do, drive over to SHIELD and tell Fury your skin doesn’t fare well in the desert sun?”

“Hey now, my skin tans beautifully.” She could almost picture him, looking into the reflection of the town car’s window as it drove him to the airport. “I miss Strike Team Zero. They are taking me to New Mexico to pillage a scientist.”

“And to meet a demi-God,” Natasha reminded. “Plus, Coulson is going with you so that’s two-thirds of the team.”

“That’s me and the stiff, Nat, and you know it.”

Natasha looked idly at her manicure. “Coulson’s going to cry when he hears that.”

“Well don’t tell him.”

“If you don’t think he has your town car bugged, you’re delusional.”

She heard his head thump against the leather seat. “Why are all my friends psychopaths?”

Natasha smirked. “Because we make you feel special.”

~~~

_LONDON 2004_

 

“What are you doing here, _Jimmy?_ ” It was the name they called him, the other two, as they had toyed with Penelope. The boss had taken the flashdrive to a nearby room, John going with him. Jimmy was ordered to watch her.

She wondered where the name came from, if he had given it to himself or if Hydra had provided it for him, but that's not the question she asks. “Are you a double-agent?”

The Winter Soldier took a step back, leaning his weight against the mahogany desk and actually chuckled. His gloved metal hand grabbing the wood, long hair falling over his face. Natalia crossed her arms. “What?”

“You think if I was a double agent, I would tell you?” He chuckled and Natalia took a moment to observe the man. His muscular shoulders, usually tense, were relaxed, looser now. So were his words. The tense sentences of a man unused to socializing were replaced by, well, humor. He smirked more and although his eyes still held the remains of his laughter, she could see the Winter Soldier’s weighted stare underneath. The only difference was that now he chose to keep it at bay. Instead the gaze he fixed her with was almost playful. Natalia did not think about the flush she worked to keep from her cheeks.

“I think you’re either here because of Hydra or you’re a double agent. Either answer is unfortunate for me.”

“You’re here because of Hydra,” the Winter Soldier said, laughter clearing from his face as he stepped closer, eyes falling for a moment to the curve of her breast before returning to hers. “You-- always the best for Hydra.”

Natalia narrowed her eyes, something in his tone, a hint of sarcasm, of bitterness. It went against everything she had known about the man, the asset, that she had heard from the stories. “Of course.”

He let out a breath, shoulders falling as he turned to the closed door the Raethlake had walked through. “I’ve been deep-undercover since you killed our mark.”

“That was years ago,” Natasha said, remembering it clear as day.

“That’s what deep-undercover entails. They’ll be back soon, what are you doing here? Why did Hydra send you?”

Natalia wondered if the Commander that doled out her orders had known the Winter Soldier was here; years ago she would have never doubted Hydra’s omniscience but she had grown, sat in strategy sessions with imbeciles, been to battle with cowards. Hydra was only as strong as its weakest member. “Alien tech,” she finally answered, eyes fixed on the gaudy faux-Victorian painting that hung over the Raethlake leader’s desk.

The Winter Soldier swore. “The stone.”

Natalia shrugged, she knew little about the actual tech in question, Hydra deemed it unnecessary. “Their connection in the arctic, Hydra is interested. And you?”

“Three years ago I had orders to take out a new recruit and assume his identity. I’ve been here ever since.”

That explained his relaxed demeanor, so long away of captivity. But there still were questions that remained. Natalia wanted to grip at the leather armrests that curled into her sides.“For what gain? You’re an assassin, a sniper. It doesn’t make sense to put you so close to the target, and for so long.”

“And you have a strategic mind, as well.” The Winter Soldier leaned against the mahogany desk, legs crossed in a way that was too casual, so unlike the man who had sulked in the window frame of their perch. “Why am I not surprised?”

“I notice you’re not answering the question.”

“I act as their in-house hit man.” He smirked, teethy and horrible. “I have special skills, you see.”

“I see you’re English is not horrible, either, and why--”

They heard the sound of rushed feet coming up the stairwell and the door to the office opened. Penelope had turned at the sound, face drawn with concern at the sight of the boss man, John and a newcomer in tow. James snorted and turned back toward the painting.

“Now, Penny, I can call you Penny, right?” the boss man asked, wrinkled hand running across the back of her bare shoulders. “It looks like you did a good job, a very good job. We think we’d like you to stick around for awhile, make yourself comfortable.”

It wasn’t a choice.

It was also unfortunate because Hydra had also tasked her with the mission of dismantling this whole operation. Yet, the Winter Soldier was part of this operation. It made no sense. She needed more information. Penelope hunched forward, nodding.

It became clearer after the phone rang.

“Hello,” the boss said into a rotary phone. “Are you sure?” He pointed towards Penelope. “You, get out.”

She spared a quick look towards Jimmy but his attention was straight ahead, shoulders tensing and ready for action. All because of a phone call.

Penelope, who was scared, didn’t even want to be here in the first place-- she shouldn’t have hesitated, should be grateful for the escape but Natalia wanted so badly to know, wanted so badly to finish her conversation with the Winter Soldier--

“Now!” And she was startled out of her seat, chair sliding on the wooden floor under the force at which she jumped from it. Jimmy’s head turned, just a hair, just enough for her to see his profile and a nod.

The hallway was empty on the other side of the door and Penelope waited there because she had no other instructions. Despite the kitchen being below, she could hear the mumbling of a conversation, the words _stone_ and _arctic_ , the Winter Soldier’s voice discussing a call.

Then, the sound of a gunshot, silencer suppressing the noise but Natalia was too trained to confuse the noise with any other. A returning shot, without a silencer, and the noise stops downstairs. There’s a scuffle, furniture moving as one figure crosses the room. She wanted to go in but the Winter Soldier was there and Hydra’s orders were to deliver the flash drive and remain undercover to gather information before dismantling the operation.

After a few silent moments, the door behind her opened. It was him, eyes dark again with the remnants of his kill widening their edges. A splatter of blood across his face, sticking his hair onto his cheek. He held open the door, waiting for her to enter the room again but her feet wouldn’t move. Penelope was gone and Natalia was uncertain. He reached out, hand on her bare shoulder and the calloused skin against her own caused a sprinkle of goosebumps to erupt up her neck. The sensation alone would have kept her in her spot, but combined with her lack of orders-- he pulled her into the room.  “Trust me.”

These were her new orders.

The newcomer laid dead on the ground, brains on the rug. John the Henchman was unconscious next to him. This didn’t shock her. What surprised Natalia was the boss behind the desk was shaking, terrified, covered in another man’s blood, but still alive.

She turned to the Winter Soldier who stood half in the shadows. “He’s Hydra now,” he answered her unasked question. “He and his people will deliver us the alien tech.” The Winter Soldier turned to the former-boss. “Call in everyone, make the announcement.”

Within minutes all the upper-tier members of the Rathkeale Rovers had circled into the office. Natalia watched as the man explained to his members that Hydra had entered their ranks and was now acting as leader. It was easy to observe the discomfort spreading along the men and she watched, unmoving and near invisible from the corner of the room, as the Winter Soldier assessed the situation as well.

A flicker of his eye from the boss to a member of the Rovers reaching for his gun and before Jimmy’s name could be uttered as the link to Hydra, the Winter Soldier lifted his own gun and shot the man in his head.

Penelope gasped but no one else moved.

It suddenly made sense to Natalia, the reason they had the Winter Soldier deep-undercover. Now he would rise as the leader of the Rathkeale, without anyone connecting them to Hydra.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed! Thank you so much for reading and a special hello to those that have subscribed, commented, bookmarked and kudos-ed! Nothing motivates me more to write than knowing you all are enjoying. 
> 
> Have a wonderful day! More to come soon :)


	4. Chapter 4

 

~~~

_UNKNOWN LOCATION 1992_

~~~

It was always cold in the Red Room but in November the chill creeped through the cracks of the windows and into the floorboards underneath the ballerinas pointe shoes. Natalia waited in fourth position, her feet turned outward, one in front of the other, while Margarette performed her routine. She watched the flawless curve of the older girl’s spine as she leapt into _gran jete_ , face relaxed and graceful, eyes blank and so unlike earlier, when she had given Natalia a birthday present.

Madame B nodded with approval, her highheels echoing in the silence that followed the routine. Standing by the mirrored wall, her victorian skirt brushing against the glass. Everyone waited. Silent.

“Natalia, forward,” her crisp words echoed in the chamber of the dance hall.

She sashayed into the center of the room and waited in third position, eyes fixed on the mirror as Madame B circled her. “You are ten years old today.”

Natalia remained silent, it was not a question.

“Show me what you have learned,” Madame B said, following a sequence of choreography Natalia memorized as soon as it was uttered. The woman clapped, once, and the piano began a soft, airy melody. Natalia passé turned and leaped through the air.

When she finished the sequence, her breath as even as when she began, Madame B beckoned her forward. Her bony hand cupped the air, waiting for Natalia to place her foot into her palm. Natalia had seen this ritual before, knew what to expect. She thought fleetingly of the pointing shoes Margarette had given her for after.

Lifting her pointed foot, Natalia gracefully placed it in Madame B’s palm. Her bony fingers unraveling the ribbon that secured the ballet slipper onto her foot, pulling it off from the heel. Natalia felt a tickle along the sensitive skin of her foot as Madame B rubbed her hands along the bottom of it. She stood, still and silent.

She knew what was going to happen, but the glimmer of the sunlight against the tip of the chef’s knife as Madame B slipped it from her victorian skirt, pulled her attention. She strived to keep her eyes at the mirror. Solid and unmoving and marble. “It is easy to do something,” Madame B said, words clipped, “we’ve been trained to do, yes?”

“Yes, Madame,” Natalia agreed, keeping her breath even, knowing what was going to happen and waiting for it-- In her reflection, her green eyes shook.

“It is easy to embody perfection in perfect health, yes?”

“Yes, Madame.”

She lifted the knife again, trailing the point along the bottom of her foot and Natalia could feel the other girls watching.She had stood there herself not even six months ago, back when another ten year old stood in her spot.

Madame B’s voice pulled her back to the knife against her foot and time slowed down because the pain was inevitable, a foregone conclusion. She needed to move beyond it, to act.

“The Red Room is not easy.”

“Yes, Madame,” she said, and the woman smiled, pushing the point into the fleshy base of her foot. Breaths even, leg still. Madame B caught her eye before tearing the knife down, ripping her skin.

She did not cry out but in her head, Natalia was screaming. She willed tears away and for her jaw to unclench. Blood dripped down the heel of her foot, curving around her ankle. Madame B’s hand left her foot only for a second and Natalia held it in the air as if the change never occurred, until her pointe shoe is placed back on her foot, laced up along the ankle.

The pain radiated from the cut up through her foot, every breath causing it to spread into her leg. It trembled, a nearly incomprehensible shake that Natalia hoped Madame B could not see. She looked over the woman’s shoulder and into the mirror where the line of blood spread, soiling the arch of the shoe.

Madame B lifted her gaze and Natalia met it immediately, knowing that was what her teacher wanted in that moment. They looked at one another, Madame B’s expression clear and expectant, until Natalia controlled the tremor in her leg.

“Perform the routine again, show me perfection despite your injury.”

After her performance, once Madame B nodded in approval and a younger girl mopped up her blood, Natalia sat on the wooden dance floor with the other girls taking off her shoes. That was when Margarette approached, reminding her of the gift. The girl was her rival, every Red Room trainee knew it, and Madame B often positioned them as rivals.

The gift was strange.

Margarette smiled, sweetly, no trace of malice or ill-will. “My equal gave me the same present on my ten years, almost four years ago.”

“I don’t remember,” Natalia began and Margarette shook her head.

“You had already left. But I have been waiting to do the same. Now, here, open.” She thrusted a shoebox under her chin, waving it until Natalia reached up and grabbed it from the air. Lifting the box, she wasn’t surprised to see a pair of shoes. These were soft slippers.

As Natalia pulled the shoes out and put them on her feet, Margarette joined a group of girls near the exit. They watched together as Natalia stepped down, expecting a cushion. Instead the base of her foot met rough crystal.

Natalia caught Margarette’s eye and the sweet smile turned cruel, her blue eyes narrowed in satisfaction. Salt. As the pain seared into her cut Natalia realized the the crystal was actually table salt absorbing, painfully, into her open wound. Her eyes widened in comprehension but she used everything in her training not to let the pain show on her face or in her limp as she walked out the door.

As she walked passed Margarette’s group of laughing ballerinas, she stepped forward, a little wave of her fingers as she said, “Happy Birthday, Natalia.”

~~~

_LONDON 2005_

~~~

The holidays had come and gone in London. The trees on the other side of the window were bare limbed as they swayed in the wind, snow now crusted along the edge of the sidewalk. The alien tech was still en route from the arctic and while Hydra secretly operated the Rathkeale Rovers for months, the arctic contacts were none the wiser. Whatever Hydra wanted with this stone, it must be worth not only an agent, but the asset to be stationed here for so long. Natalia watched flurries twist and turn, following their descent as her index finger traced along the scar on the bottom of her foot.

“You’re thinking about Hydra,” a deep voice interrupted her thoughts as the Winter Soldier walked into the room. He was more Jimmy these days than the asset but his voice still adopted a foreboding note whenever they spoke of their owners. The Winter Soldier had been here for years now.

“Maybe.” Her finger stopped its movement along her foot and she turned from the window to watch him prop open the front door with his thigh and reach into the hallway to collect the rest of the groceries. “How--?”

“Margarette had the same mark,” he said, carrying the bags into the kitchen of the Rathethalake Rover’s headquarters, a series of apartments above the night club.

“Yes,” she agreed. “I’m surprised she let you see it.”

“She didn’t have much of a choice.” His head appeared in the doorway of the kitchen. “She was dead.”

Natalia pressed her lips together, fighting off a smile. “You’re disclosing mission details.”

His laughed echoed from the other room, brittle and sharp, and she heard him open two beers before putting the rest in the refrigerator. He walked back into the room and handed her a bottle. “Not important mission details, s’why I still remember them.” She could hear the remnants of America in his English and wondered, not for the first time, where Hydra had found him. He sat down next to her, jostling her knee so her foot hit the floor, the scar momentarily forgotten.

Turning, she pressed her back to the armrest to get a better look at his profile. They had been living in the same space for long enough that she was used to how quickly he’d shift from Jimmy, the mellow gangster with a flirty smile and laugh lines wrinkling the edges of his eyes, to the Winter Soldier with his long stares into the middle of the room and miles away at the same time.

They rarely spoke of Hydra and there was so much Natalia wanted to know-- how he looked the same as he did years before, when she saw him in the Red Room; why they called him the asset instead of the agent; what he remembered. The cognitive dissonance she saw play out on his face every time he switched from Jimmy to the Winter Soldier, as a spy she wanted to dissect it, figure out what motivations were hiding in his mind. As an individual, she yearned to be close to him, to be the one that knew his secrets. “You don’t remember your mission details?”

He lifted the bottle to his lips, taking a sip as he shook his head. His long hair brushing against his shoulders and he looked at her from the corner of his eye, the earlier mirth long faded. “The asset is a clean slate.” He pressed the bottle against his forehead. “My hard drive only needs one mission in it at a time.”

She shifted against the armrest, bare toes pressing against his thigh. “But you remember, Margarette, the Red Room…”

“Some thing’s are irrelevant. If they performed a total reset every time they rebooted me, I wouldn’t remember the coordinates to Hydra bases or whose orders to follow or how to sustain myself.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “So, you remember the scar of a dead girl but not what killed her. Useful. Think you’ll forget all about the stone but remember me beating you in poker after this mission ends?”

Their eyes briefly met, and Bucky’s mouth curved into a grin. The strain of Hydra falling away as he took another sip of his beer. He leaned towards her, eyes turning wicked and challenging, a roguish look, all rough around the edges. “Why? You worried I won’t remember you?”

She shifted under his gaze, took a sip of her own beer before answering, “It doesn’t matter to me one way or another.”

Turning her eyes back to the window, she felt his gaze on her and waited for the reply she knew would come because Jimmy, the Winter Soldier, whoever he was now, a blur of both canceling out the identity of the other, would not let her have the last word here. She could already see his grin spreading across his face, his comeback a tease at the tip of his tongue. “You may be a world class spy but I can see right through that lie.”

She stood up from the couch, stretching her arms above her head to release the tension in her muscles from sitting too long. Looking at him from over her shoulder, his hair tucked behind his ears, five o’clock shadow replacing the Winter Soldier mask. “That was entirely intentional, Soldier,” she replied with a smirk.

He looked like any nine-to-five gangster enjoying a beer at the end of a long day, and something about his ease caused a twist in her gut because she had no idea whether this was Jimmy talking to Penelope or the Winter Soldier talking to Natalia or something else entirely. But she did know, she was starting to appreciate his presence, and that alone could be a dangerous thing.

~~~

_NEW MEXICO 2011_

~~~

“You could’ve taken him out at least three times,” Natasha announced as Clint walked into his trailer. He staggered back against the door and she would have laughed but the man was drenched wet and obviously frustrated. Instead she uncrossed her combat boots and recrossed them on his coffee table.

“Coulson seemed to think differently.” He recovered from his shock by slamming the trailer door and walking three long strides to the refrigerator, pulling out a beer. “And I, unlike you, do not break direct orders.”

Natasha scoffed. “You couldn’t even tell that lie with a straight face.”

“What’s the point of even trying to lie around you? It was a shit call and you know it. That beast of a demi-god took out sixteen field agents and Coulson wouldn’t let me take the shot because he wanted to fanboy over the alien with a hammer. Aliens, Nat! Aliens.” He took a long drag of his beer. “Aliens.”

“Yes.”

“You don’t seem surprised or even bothered at all, you,” he stopped mid-sentence, taking three more gulps. “You don’t seem the least bit enlightened at all.” He disposed of the empty bottle on the counter and picking up a second, opening the bottle then pointing her with the opener. “You knew aliens existed and didn’t tell me?”

She shrugged. “It didn't come up.” He threw his hands in the air, mouth forming a few abandoned sentences until it gave up and turned to the beer instead. “I’m here for the next forty-eight hours,” she said into the silence. “Under orders.”

Clint snorted. “So it looks like we’re both acting like good little agents these days.” He shook his head, crossing the small trailer to sit on the couch next to her. “Aliens?” he asked, head tilted so it rested on her shoulder. She patted his head a few times and wondered if he felt the way her body tensed, a minutia she could not suppress despite her training, every time he said the word aliens.

She listened to him groan about how Coulson wouldn’t let him in to see the demi-god, alien, whatever SHIELD would classify him as, and how he wanted to test out his strength against Clint’s bow. Natasha listened but another part of her, a distracting, tempting, masochistic part of her, was thinking of the last time she encountered anything alien and how it brought with it a heartache she wouldn’t let herself regret.

When Clint pulled away from her shoulder, bouncing to his feet with excitement, discussing the hammer and some specs he’d seen, Natasha pushed that part of her away and reminded herself that the here and now was good too. The here and now was a home just like the then and there. Then she told Clint everything she knew about aliens.

~~~

_LONDON 2005_

~~~

Penelope slept on the couch of the Ratheleake headquarters and by now, everyone knew it. They used to give her slack for it, but one glare from Jimmy and they shut right up. The real Penelope had an apartment and a life and Natalia knew she should be there, assume the life and identity of her mark, but Hydra had told her to stay with the Rathkeale Rovers until they were destroyed, and Natalia decided to toe that order to the letter.

Her decision had everything to do with the Winter Soldier. She wanted to watch and learn from him, witness him infiltrate the largest gang in the United Kingdom. Something about him, about the way Natalia was unable to determine anything about him. He intrigued her, and despite her training it was far easier resisting pain than the temptation of something, someone, she actually wanted.

She was compromised. A part of her knew it, but a bigger part of her had slipped into the mark. Invested in Jimmy and the Rover’s mission now just as much as Hydra’s.

A sound had woken Natalia, the front door opening and the Winter Soldier’s heavy footsteps against the hardwood floor. He walked through the living room and down the hall to the master bedroom, and Natalia turned on the couch and pretended to sleep. He hardly paused to look at her, and after a few minutes she decided to push back the blanket and walk to his room.

Her uncertainty, her erratic decision-making, all of it was a symptom of the same problem. She was compromised.

Still she walked to the door, knocking once before pushing it open. He was sitting up in his bed, back against the headboard wearing nothing but a pair of gym shorts. The metal of his arm caught the light from the bedside lamp as he crossed his arms over his chest. “I thought you were asleep.”

“Did you really?” she asked, always wanting to know when her training worked on him. He shrugged, and Natalia could read nothing from the movement. She shifted her weight, leaning against the doorframe. “Any update on the stone?”

He wasn’t surprised by her question and the corner of his mouth kicked up into a small smile. “Is Penelope asking or Hydra?”

She let her eyes drop to his biceps and chest and he remained still under her observation, either unaffected or wanting to appear that way. “Penelope is indifferent, as long as you pay her by the end of the week. Natalia is….curious,” she admitted.

“Because knowledge is power?”

She shrugged, the hem of her nightshirt brushing against her thigh with the movement. She noticed his eye catch the motion. “This mission,” she began, kicking her leg out so that the fabric ran along her skin, a fidget that they both knew was intentional, “there is too much sitting around. It’s...unusual.”

He nodded and in the gesture she read his own agreement, his own discomfort with their situation.

“How long?” she asked.

“My mission ends when we have possession of the stone. Then, the Rovers are no longer of use to Hydra.” His eyes broke from hers, looking around the room as if it held answers “I can tell you it’s volatile. The stone compromises everyone that comes in contact with it.”

“Which makes it difficult to transport,” she said. Then, pushing her luck she added, “Compromise how?”

His blue eyes were back on her, amusement crossing his face. “That I cannot say.”

“Because you don’t know or because it's classified?” she asked, and he remained silent, unwilling to provide the information  She was about to push him, because she enjoyed seeing how far he would let her in, before he cut her off and shut down.

A creak against the fire escape interrupted their conversation and they both looked towards the window. The noise happened again, the sound of weight pressing against metal, and Natalia crouched down to ground behind the bed.

The Winter Soldier had his hand out in her direction, as if trying to warn her to be still and he swung, silently, from the bed to the floor near the window. Leaning just a sliver of his body into the window, he checked down the fire escape. A crash sounded from the living room. It was glass from the window by the couch, Natalia knew and she was out the door and down the hallway before the Winter Soldier could move from the window.

A man she recognized, but did not know by name, was standing in front of the broken living room window, gun loosely hanging from his hand. When he saw Natalia he raised the weapon and aimed for her forehead. Natalia calculated the distance between them before ducking down, sliding low on the ground and kicking his legs out from under him. She wrestled on top of him, her hands focused on disarming him. One slammed his wrist into the hardwood floor and the other clawed at his fingers.

The front door slammed open, and Natalia’s hope for assistance ended as soon as she took in the man. It was John the Henchman, who had disliked her ever since the Winter Soldier- Jimmy- assumed power. In two short strides he was across the room. He pulled her from the man she pinned to the ground, and threw her across the room. He followed, fists up and ready to strike and Natalia spoke quickly.

“What,” she breathed, assuming Penelope in the high pitched panic of her voice. “What are you doing?”

“Shut up, Hydra,” he spat and reached for her hair, always with the hair, and used it to secure her before connecting his fist into her cheek.

“I’m not,” she managed, before another punch hit her in the jaw.

“You are.”

She heard the shuffle in the bedroom, a fight between the Winter Soldier and a Rover, maybe one or maybe more. Natalia knew she had to strike back, even when Penelope would freeze and cry, because the glint in John the Henchman’s eye told her that he would beat her to a bloody pulp, whether she was Penelope or Hydra.

She blocked his next punch, twisting his wrist and using his weight to flip him onto the floor. The other man was up now. He ran towards her and Natalia kicked up from the ground, using the momentum to catch his neck between her legs and twist her calves, slamming him on the floor.

Before she could catch her breath, a pair of arms grabbed her from behind and John was pulling her away from the unconscious Rover towards the couch. Her legs struggled to find traction on the floor but John had too much of an advantage and kept her off balance.

Footsteps ran from the bedroom and Jimmy was there, sweatshirt and glove covering his metal arm and hand. His breath was still catching from the fight but his keen blue eyes took in the Rover on the floor and then John behind her. His eyes narrowed. “Let her go.”

“Your girlfriend’s Hydra,” John said, satisfaction dripping from his words. “It’s time to put her down.”

Their eyes met, the Winter Soldier assessing and she nodded, a minutia of a movement, to assure to him that she was alright, and that John’s words were correct, because she had given up too much in the fight for her to be anything other than Hydra.

“I know,”  Jimmy said, stepping towards the spot where the gun she had wrestled from the Rover’s hand rested under the coffee table. John noticed the movement and gripped both her wrists before pulling a gun from the holster at his side. She felt the cut of metal as the barrel hit the side of her head.

“You know, huh?” John asked and her head knocked against the gun as he shook her. “Maybe you’re in on it too. Are you Hydra, Jimmy?”

Jimmy laughed, a deep barrelled sound that made John freeze behind her. “I’ve been a Rover longer than you, John. Watch yourself.”

“Maybe she,” he cut his words off, air catching in his throat. “She could’ve recruited you.”

“I’m the leader of the Rathkeale Rovers,” Jimmy reminded, words slow and almost condescending. “She told me months ago, she defected.”

John snorted. “Sure she did, from the rumors I’ve heard, you don’t just defect from Hydra. You’re in it till you die. Now, I’m going to fucking kill this bitch.”

Natalia tried to pull free and John snapped her shoulder nearly out of her socket as he twisted her still. The gun pressed into her forehead and now John’s entire focus was on her. “I’ve always wanted to kill a Hydra agent.” His eyes narrowed, finger pressing against the trigger. “I thought it’d be more difficult.” His knuckle moved and Natalia watched, pain shooting up and down her side where one of her ribs was definitely bruised. The Red Room came to the front of her mind, the pain of her foot, pain in her training, and all it would take was a single twist into that pain and she would be free.

A metal fist flew past her cheek and clasped around John’s throat. She stumbled back onto the couch and recovered in time to see John struggle against the Winter Soldier’s metal arm, fingernails trying to grip against the smooth surface and failing. Every muscle in the Winter Soldier’s body was tensed, focused on the singular purpose of ending John the Henchman’s life and as he flailed, feet tracing against the hardwood floor, the Winter Soldier’s blue eyes narrowed into slits as he watched his kill, and Natalia wondered if she’d ever seen anything more beautiful.

John the Henchman took his last breaths. Then the Winter Soldier let his body go and he dropped like a sack of potatoes. Before he even hit the ground she was pinned with the Winter Soldier’s concentrated stare. Then he closed the space between them so that only her arm, cradled against her chest, separated them. The metal hand lifted, and he searched her eyes as he traced the fingertips against a bruise on her cheek before dropping the hand entirely. He did not back away. “Are you alright?”

Natalia was compromised. She couldn’t look past the concern in his eye, so ridiculously satisfied to witness it, that the dead and unconscious men on the floor disappeared. She wanted him. All the excuses about wanting to see him work, wanting to learn from him. She knew as his lips parted to let in a ragged breath, as he reached out to gently assess her shoulder. He pulled her closer, into the warmth of his bare chest and Natalia wanted him.

It was easy to close the space between them, to press her lips against his and he hadn’t expected that. The Winter Soldier breath caught and Natalia’s lips quirked in satisfaction before she pushed into the opening the gasp provided, tasting more. Wanting more. She suppressed a groan of pain as he stepped even closer, wrapping his arms against her lower back and bringing them flush together.

“Natalia,” he moaned into her lips and the sound sparked the fuel under her skin, and she went on her toes, throwing her good arm around his neck and took what she wanted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew- things are starting to heat up (finally). ;)
> 
> The lovely artwork was made by the lovely http://amaranthium.tumblr.com/ 
> 
> Thanks for reading! I'm falling in love with this story more and more, each chapter I write.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentine's Day! I know it's been a while so I've gifted you with double the chapter. :) 
> 
> Also, mind the rating, because things get heated. This picks up right where the last one left off. Enjoy!

~~~

LONDON 2005

~~~

The Winter Soldier crowded over her, pushed her body further into the couch and she tried to meet each thrust of his hips, every catch of his lips as his weight settled against hers. She let her nails scratch up the length of his side, over his shoulders and he growled at the sensation, leaning down to run his metal hand through her hair, tugging at the strands. 

Her breath caught at the sensation. She may have started this kiss with him, fueled by the battle with the Rovers and the beauty of his kill, but the Winter Soldier had taken total control of the situation.

Natalia found herself more than satisfied with this turn of events. 

“The dead man is seeping into the wood,” he reminded against the soft skin of her neck. She let her head fall against the cushion of the armrest, the reckless abandon of their situation calling to her as much as his lips, his hips, his body brushing against hers. 

A chuckle turned into a moan in her throat, when he bit down onto her collarbone. “I didn’t care for John much when he was alive,” she managed between gasps, heat under her skin coiling in her groin. “I don’t care for his corpse at all.” 

She was still in her nightshirt, the rush of the battle electrified her veins and she wanted him. Wanted him so fiercely that she clenched her thighs around his hips and used his momentarily distracted state to flip them. Straddling his hips, she pulled back and took a moment to look at him. His dark eyes on her, pupils wide and chest heaving with each breath. His hair brushed across his shoulders and Natalia wanted to reach out, grab hold of it and drag their lips back together. So she did. 

It was his turn to chuckle against her lips. “Hair pulling and taking command, why am I not surprised?”

“Silence, Soldier,” she bit into the flesh of his lip to hide her blush. “I’ve wanted-” She pulled back again, feeling the denim covered weight of his arousal against shift between her legs, and she lifted her nightshirt over her head. 

His eyes dropped to her bare chest, and satisfaction rolled along her spine to settle in her smirk. The feeling, the power. It was a heady rush having him like this, the asset torn down so thoroughly, that only the man remained. 

She did this --they did this-- breathed life into the Winter Soldier. 

With almost a predatory smile, his eyes found hers again, heavy with desire even as his finger traced a scar along the curve of her ribcage. When it seemed like he was going to ask her about it, Natalia ran her hand along his and twisted their fingers together. She dragged his hand up until it cupped around her breast and pleasure shot through her as he squeezed. She continued her mission and grabbed for his metal hand. The cold plate shifted under her fingers, but he let her grasp his palm, lift it to her other breast. Then she started to grind. They both groaned in unison, his erection pressing against his pants to drag along her fabric covered clit. “Fuck, Natalia.” 

“Feels good,” she agreed. 

He chuckled, dark and filthy, massaging her breasts with a rough twist.. “Things must’ve changed since I was last unfrozen,” he said, smirking. “Because this is better than good, on my end.”

It took a moment for his words to click through the haze of her brain, but when they did her head rolled forward. “So that’s how you stayed so handsome, I had wondered.”

“Hy-”

“No,” she interrupted. “There’s already a dead body in the room, let’s not bring them into this too. Cryogenics is one thing, but not-.”

He squeezed the skin under his palms again before dropping his hands to his side, pushing up to close the space between them with another filthy kiss, too much tongue and too much teeth. “You liked the kill.” His words cut against her skin and a flush rushed to her cheeks at the truth of them, but she said nothing in response. Instead, she wrapped an arm around his neck, and lifted her weight and pulled at his jeans until he got the hint and removed them. It wasn’t until she sat against hot skin that she realized he hadn’t been wearing anything underneath. 

Her head fell forward as she groaned from the friction of their moving bodies, a light sheen of sweat slid down their skin. He was so hard under her and she was no better, yoga shorts practically drenched but she pulled her focus back to him, meeting his gaze. “You’re beautiful,” she said. “And when you fight you’re magnificent.”

“You’re beautiful,” he countered. “Raw and dangerous and-” He broke off, hand running down her back and under the fabric to slip in between her cheeks, pull her closer to him. “I want you.” 

“I’ve wanted you,” she whispered into the hard muscle of his chest.

He gripped her hips, pulling her so that she was tight against him, and ran a metal finger into the front of her shorts to press into her folds. His smile curled, devious, and Natalia closed her eyes against it as he circled her clit. “You’ve wanted the Soldier, the asset,” he murmured against her skin. “You wanted to see him- to see me bend under you.”

He read her, so easy and yet- “Yes,” she agreed. “But also-” She thought of the man who she had grown to know, the one that put his feet on the coffee table or brought her a beer alongside his own. The man who kept her under his protection, whose quiet strength endlessly captivated her even when he did something mundane, like the laundry. She had no name for this man. He was not the Soldier, nor was he Jimmy. It shouldn’t be possible to care about someone this much, when she didn’t even know what to name him. 

His finger curled along the ridge of her slit, teasing her open and when she opened her eyes again he was watching with a keen gaze, as if cataloguing how each press of his finger, each twist of his wrist, jolted through her body. Savoring it, studying her reactions for future use. The thought made her hips twist and suddenly, she wanted her hands on him. Wanted to feel the proof of how much he wanted her. 

A growl slipped from his throat as she took him in her hand. She stroked once, twice, before he wrapped his metal arm around her waist, lifting her up to pull off her shorts. She helped when they caught on her knee and he let her, while he pressed back in with two fingers this time.  

“Oh god, Sold-” she said, cutting off her words with a moan. The name fell flat, wrong, so instead she moaned a different way. “Yes, oh. You’re good at that. I want-”

“Yes,” he agreed and the metal arm carried her weight easily as he lined them up. They didn’t need to worry about protection, the one thing that  _ they _ had given them. And Hydra was still here, in between their sheets, in between her thoughts. But the first touch of him, as it breached into her body, was enough to derail her thoughts back to more pleasant ones. 

His eyes grew wild now, connecting his gaze to hers. Her breath caught at the intimacy that creeped between them as she lowered onto him. It was as if he had forgotten what sex was like and just now remembered. She remembered what the sensation was like, but her memories were nothing like this.

Pressed chest to chest, they rocked and over his shoulder she saw the faint outline of John the Henchmen. In the corner, her other attacker still sprawled out unconscious as she rode the Soldier. She knew that she should feel something other than pleasure building whenever he dragged his cock across parts of her that’d been long untouched, but she didn’t and, at the moment, she couldn’t bring herself to care.

He thrusted up again, and she moaned into his skin, his neck, his lips. They slid together, sweat and sex running like a fever heat between them. Her hands dragged over his muscle, along a pattern of raised bumps against his side, a scar she knew nothing about; she dragged her nails against it just to make him moan again.

It was all building too quickly; too much, too fast, but she rode the wave of pleasure. He hardened and twitched in response. Fuck, it felt good. The Soldier’s moves, Jimmy’s smirk, the eyes she had come to know turning soft in a way she hadn’t witnessed before. 

His lips trailed up her neck, moved to whisper in her ear. “Oh, doll. That’s it, so good.” He lowered his hand again, pressed it between them to twist around her clit and Natalia was done. It only took one more thrust and she clenched around him, an endless tremble that shook from her to the Soldier. He groaned in response, leaning forward as his whole body shuttered with his orgasm. 

The both sat on the couch, chests heaving together as she tried to process what the hell just happened. 

She looked at him, the look from before already fading from his eyes. Carefully formed walls reforming around both of them, as they shifted and pulled off one another. Natalia lifted off his lap and moved to the kitchen, grabbing a towel off the countertop before walking back into the living room just in time to see the Soldier putting his longsleeved shirt back on over his bare chest. 

“Here.” She handed him the towel, walking back around the coffee table to sit nude on the couch, knees tucked under her chin. “I understand why you cover the arm here but…” she trailed off, not quite sure where she was going with her thought. 

“What?” he asked, unable to let anything go between them, especially in this moment. 

“I like it.” His shoulders tensed. It was the wrong thing to say. “You hate it.”

“It’s not me.”

He was still nude other than the shirt, but he didn’t look vulnerable. No, he seemed uncomfortable and poised to make a hasty retreat to his bedroom at any moment. Natalia found she did not want him to leave. 

“Help me with the body?” she asked, because it was the only way she knew he’d stay. His nod was curt, tense still, and Natalia hated it. 

She unraveled from the couch in one smooth movement, walking across the living room to turn on the stereo, letting soft electronic beats fill the room. She knew his eyes were on her, could feel them trailing along her naked curves. She reveled in his gaze for a moment, before closing the short distance between them. 

His eyes were focused on the floor now, and then on her breasts. She moved her hand along his chin, guiding his gaze to hers. Behind the blue of his eyes was a question, a hesitancy, until she brought their lips together in one soft press of skin against skin. “They are all you,” she said into the kiss. “Just like all of mine are me.”

~~~

MADRID 2007 

~~~

“My name is Natasha,” she told the tip of the man’s arrow.  Broad shouldered and hard to shake, the SHIELD logo on his jumpsuit easily placed him, but it didn’t line up, didn’t make sense. She had a ‘kill on sight’ order issued from SHIELD, but here she was, still alive. “Get out of my way.”

“Sorry, no can do.” His eyes stayed trained on her, satisfaction pulling at the edge of his grin. “We know what you did to the Red Room. How you’ve been on a rampage through, not just one country's intelligence agency, but seventeen. Seventeen, that's impressive really. SHIELD wants me to take you out. Me? I’ve followed you through five countries and I want to ask you questions more than I want to kill you. Are you still with Hydra?” Natalia tilted her head at the SHIELD agent and wondered, yet again, why they insisted on recruiting imbeciles. 

Except, here she was, at the end of  _ his _ arrow. “What have you been searching for...Natalia?” He took another step across the fire escape, the steel groaned under his weight as he backed her into a corner. 

“I told you.” Her Spanish was flawless, but he wasn’t even trying the language. Insisting on speaking with her in English instead of Russian, so she didn’t have to pretend not to understand his words. English was common enough. “My name is Natasha Garcia. You have the wrong woman.”

He laughed, then shot her in the thigh. 

Pain radiated through her leg and she should’ve screamed in response, but instead she glared and completely broke her cover by lunging for him. She landed an axe kick to his neck, and he stumbled back a moment before recovering with a swing of his arm. The punch was wide, and Natalia could grab it, twist the agent around until he’s tight against her chest, immobilized. 

The fire escape creaked against a gust of wind. The arrow was still in her thigh. As the wind caught the arrow, her entire leg erupted in pain. She did not scream, she would not scream, but the pain distracted her enough that when it cleared, the agent had his gun out. 

He whipped it across her cheek. Lights out.  

Pain. Pain in her thigh, pain along her cheekbone. Warmth. Cushion under her, blanket against her back. Natalia blinked her eyes open. It was dark. She was in one of the abandoned apartments attached to the fire escape. 

The SHIELD agent was nowhere in sight. He had not tied her to a chair or handcuffed her to a radiator. No, she was lying on the couch with a blanket placed over her. 

He had taken her shoes and socks. It’d be a nuisance if she had to escape, but not detrimental. The ‘kill on sight’ order still hung in the air. She wouldn’t put it past him to grill her for information and then shoot her in the head. 

Would he use a gun or the bow and arrow? The arrows, she had seen them before, had admired the precision of their killshot, but that was before the one responsible managed to corner her and then knock her unconscious.

She sat up, because he hadn’t tied her down, and she thought of searching him out. Sneaking up behind him and killing him before he killed her came to mind. But then she heard the whistling, and with a  _ click  _ the light came on. Mr. Archer-SHIELD-Agent leaned against the doorframe with a smirk. 

Before he had knocked her out she had seven weapons hidden on her body, all were stripped from her body. She still had her strength and, even injured, she was better than him at hand-to-hand. 

“I’ve been watching you.” He kept his eye on her even as his foot shook against the doorframe. He was ready to pounce, but only in defense. He’d been the eye on the back of her neck. If he knew what she was looking for, if SHIELD knew- Natalia cut off the thought. She had to focus. Getting out of this room was her top priority. But if SHIELD knew…  “You lose your master?”

The question was odd enough to askew her thoughts. He must have seen it on her face because he continued, pushing away from the wall and walking to stand on the other side of the coffee table.  The owner of the apartment had tea this morning, the glass sat between them untouched. Everything in the apartment appeared normal, except for the two spies from opposite sides conversing in its living room. “Hydra,” he clarified.

“What about them?” 

“You haven’t reported back in months. AWOL?”

She kept quiet because answering would gain her nothing. Her face cleared, blank and he sniffed a bit in annoyance. “You haven’t gone after any of their bases though, just other countries’ intelligence. Are you searching on their behalf or your own?”

The wall behind his head had a portrait of a family. Young, children less than five, two girls with dark eyes that matched their dark pigtailed hair.

“I heard you’re the last Black Widow.”

Her eyes shot to him, and she knew it was a tell. That he possessed the knowledge was a surprise, that anyone at all outside of Hydra knew, or heard, was yet another reason to stay away from the organization.

“You're talented. You should join SHIELD.”

Her focus shifted to the bow and arrow that rested near where he perched on the doorframe. “SHIELD wants to kill me.” 

He smiled, satisfaction at finally getting a reply out of her. The throb in her thigh ached and she hadn’t spotted any of her weapons which meant he had them on his body or in another room. 

Did he know? Had he followed her closely enough to see what she searched for? 

A shadow fell over her and she looked up to see his outstretched hand. A gummy smile ran across his face, and when she met his gaze he wiggled his eyebrows. Even exhausted, a trickle of amusement lined her annoyance. She hadn’t felt amused in months. “Clint Barton,” he introduced. “SHIELD thought they wanted to kill you, but that's cause they hadn’t met you yet.”

“And you have?” 

He didn’t drop his hand, even though she had no intention of shaking it. “You’re not AWOL but you’re close. Twitchy. I can see it.”

Could he? She thought she was slipping and he just confirmed it. Ever since London and - No. Not now.  “You can speak for SHIELD?”

“I can speak for Coulson.”

“What’s a Coulson?”

The Archer- Clint- snorted. “Oh, you have no idea.”

“No,” she began, the word drawn out because she was, yet again, questioning his intelligence. “I don’t.”

He smiled, and it was as if they were having two distinctly different conversations. “Come with me.”

She considered her options. Hydra was no longer an answer, London changed that but also before. They had been slipping, she could find better uses for her skill set. SHIELD, maybe. This Archer had taken her down, even while she was distracted it was still a feat. She'd wanted access to SHIELD Intel anyway, and this was a way through the door.“Give me back my weapons, and I’ll tail you there. I insist on at least four hundred meters between us at all times, or I jump out that window.” She gestured to the nearby window with her head, her thigh burned but she would manage, if needed. 

“Deal.”

She nodded. “Deal.”

“Sweet,” he declared, clapping his hands together when he determined she wouldn’t be shaking his. “I didn’t think it would be that easy to turn a Hydra agent.”

She turned away from his enthusiasm, too loud and too boastful. This would be better, this would be her answer. But she couldn’t look at him. The apartment around her was neat, a bright teal carpet against wooden floor and she remembered too easily their apartment. Waking up to an empty bed. The answers that followed. One moment the Soldier had been there, a hook she latched onto, drawn to because of his skill and later because of something entirely different.  

She hadn’t been a Hydra agent for a long time. 

~~~

LONDON 2005 

~~~

“Get dressed,” the Soldier called from the living room of their apartment. “We're going out.”

Natalia rolled over and reached for his side of the bed. It was cold, he’d been up for a while and a lethargic smile crawled across her face, a warmth that spread to her chest because he could leave the bed now, and she wouldn’t even stir. Their bed, their apartment-- she hadn’t reported to Hydra in over four months. 

The thought was like a crash of cold water in her gut, sweeping away the warmth and leaving a pit of anxiety in its wake. It was easy to throw off the covers then, to pad across the hardwood floor to the bathroom. She could hear his approaching footsteps down the hall, and wasn’t surprised when he walked into the bathroom after her. The room was small, just large enough for a bathtub, a toilet and a standalone sink. His presence filled the room. His long hair was pulled back and tied at the nape of his neck, displaying a face flushed with excitement. He had gone for a run and the endorphins shined in his eyes. 

Pausing in front of her, his gaze trailed from her face down her neck and shoulders before continuing down the rest of her body. “Why are you always naked?”

She snorted, eyes rolling on their own accord. “I am not ‘always naked’, I sleep this way and happened to have just woken up.” 

His arms slid around her waist, pulling her into him and she followed. Despite the sheen of sweat, he smelled of sandalwood and sunshine. The Winter Soldier, warm and in her arms. “Shower with me?” he asked.

The question was redundant, and because of that she did not answer him. She instead placed a small peck on his lips, stepped back and pulled open the shower curtain. The steam from the water filled the room and she watched as he undressed. “Where are we going?” she asked, recalling his words from earlier.

“Stark Industries is having an Expo at Hyde Park. We should go for a bit.”

A smile tugged at her lips as she stepped into the water and made room for him to enter behind her. His hands trailed aimlessly over her skin and it felt like sinking back into their bed, warm and isolated from the world. “You’re a dork,” she teased, head falling back onto his shoulder, the cool metal pressing into her hair. 

_“Make way for tomorrow today!”_ he quoted the advertisement that had been running all month on television like a 1940's salesman, before he tilted his head back under the spray, the water washing away the shampoo. “ _Your automobile won't have to touch the ground at all!”_

Natalia laughed, boxing him out of the spray to get her curls wet. “I haven’t heard that second one.” 

“The second what?”

“Advertisement,” she clarified, and when she looked up his face was carefully blank, the playfulness of moments before replaced by familiar walls. Natalia froze, unsure if she should step forward or move away. Her breath caught until his eyes met hers, still guarded but seeking her out, using her to hold on to this time and place. “Memory. The second advertisement. Before, long ago...it's nothing.” The words were dragged out of him. Then, with a shake of his head, he pushed the memory down, locked it away before lurching forward. She did not expect the kiss but it didn’t really surprise her either. Her arms found their way around his neck and he pulled her close, so they were flush against one another. She let him use her to settle himself, letting their bodies slide together until he pulled away and rinsed his face under the shower spray.

By the time they left the shower, the sun was high in the sky and the Stark Expo already teemed with people. The actual head of the Stark family, Tony, wouldn’t arrive for hours but all across the park there were exhibits displaying Stark Industries latest innovations.

“Weaponry,” Natalia observed as they watched a man dress in camo press a button that exploded a box across the field.

The Soldier tilted his head, eye on the detonator in the man’s hand. “I expected flying cars, not a Military Industrial Convention.”

Natalia turned them from the field back onto the sidewalk. She couldn’t help but agree, explosions for the sake of exhibitions was a waste of gunpowder. Up ahead there was a round stage with a screen half-circled around the outside of it. In the center of the stage was a metal box that illuminated the entire universe along the stage and screen. Even under the noon sun, the projection appeared vibrant. Natalia was drawn into the spinning universes, unable to tell which one contained Earth but knowing one of them did. Next to her the Soldier appeared as excited as she was, not because he vocalized it or an expression that crossed his face. No, the only indicator was the slight press of his hand against her own.

_ “The Future is Now,”  _ boomed from speakers hidden around the stage.  _ “We are not alone in this universe.” _ The universes twirled around one another, spinning and colliding, then separating again so that the galaxies aligned single-file. Objects, balls of light seen from a far away distance, shot between the galaxies, landing with a tiny explosion of light in the curvature of the universe.  _ “Travel between worlds. Between multiverses.” _

Out of the corner of her eye she watched the Soldier’s face blossom with interest. As they approached the stage, he leaned in close to the projection, jaw slightly dropping open in awe.  _ “Consider the technology, the knowledge, with Stark Industries at the forefront of today."  _

The universes danced around one another again and the screen wall around the stage dropped. The crowd gasped, even the Soldier took a step back, and Natalia smirked. Unlike the soldier, she had not been as immersed in the presentation, not wanting to lose the opportunity to watch the Soldier observe this wonder. She acknowledged the truth that she was entirely invested, completely absorbed in the Soldier. Natalia wondered if this feeling was what people meant when they discussed the total mind altering love. 

Her heart didn’t flutter at the word. She flipped it over in her mind, instead, like it was a specimen to examine, to consider. She was still looking at him when he turned his gaze back to her, the shine of the universes still lightning his eyes. “Want to go check out the exhibits?” he asked, voice casual like she wouldn’t be able to see him buzzing with excitement. He wasn’t fidgeting, he wasn’t even swaying, but something about the way his body tensed then loosened before he made the suggestion was a loud enough tell for Natalia.

“Lead the way.”

He grabbed her hand again and she knew she was smiling, knew she had gone intentionally heavy so he had to tug her towards the exhibits and her smile widened as he pulled her, when he tucked her under his arm. Excitement prickled under her skin, she had never grinned this way, like her cheeks would be in pain for hours from the intensity. 

The first exhibit they passed displayed graphs of seismic data, or something that looked like it. The plaque on the corner of the white stand read  _ Communication and Conversation _ . 

“I’m not sure how you can manage a dialogue like that,” she said, gesturing to the charts. “Lines and numbers don’t really allow for nuance.”

“And you need nuance for conversation?” 

She felt her eyebrow lift on its own accord. “Conversation exists in the nuance.” She smiled around her words as his own eyebrow lifted.

“My marks aren't provided enough time for nuance, or conversation.”

“And your friends?”

The Soldier chuckled, dark and bitter. “Hadn’t really had any of those until recently.” He looked back at her, eyes still glinting with flirtation despite the fleeting memories of his past. “But I don’t remember conversation feeling so much like sparring.”

“Ah,” she said, pulling away only to bump her hip lightly against his. “That’s cause you hadn’t conversed with me yet. You’ll get used to it.” She leaned in to kiss him quick and light on his lips, breath catching as she processed her own words. She tried not to focus on the promise they held, that had spilled so easily from her lips, before grabbing his hand and leading them to the next exhibit. 

_ Maps and Manipulations,  _ had large renderings of the planets. One large canvas had golden castles and a rainbow bridge between worlds. A painting on the other side of the stand was a contrast to the vibrant golds, with dark blues and black tones. It was a canvas of jagged rock, lifeless. 

A fine sweep of their new perimeter and that's when Natalia noticed the exhibit at the far end of the field.  _ Stones and Species.  _ Stone. In the stand were images of colorful rocks and a few authentic pieces from other worlds. Her hand wrapped around his arm, shaking it until she had his attention. “Did you know?”

“What?” His brow furrowed. “Know what?” When she pointed he followed her finger and his eyes narrowed. “No.”

“This isn’t our tech?”

“No.”

“Does Hy-”

“No.” He hissed, cutting her off and pulling her away from the exhibit, leaving the large field that held the Expo and heading towards the nearby treeline. 

“Does it interfere with our mission?”

He didn’t answer. He didn’t know.

As they walked into the treeline and Natalia considered him again, less obvious about it this time. Something had gone wrong, some miscommunication. Neither of them knew there were other stones in London. Were they were intentionally frozen out, or was someone tempting Hydra? He didn't have any answers, it was obvious from his reaction. She wondered if he would ask her what she had known. If he doubted her that way. They should doubt one another, everything about their training made questioning second nature. 

“I need to make a call.”

They made it back to their apartment and he disappeared into their bedroom, shut the door between them. She stared at the wooden barrier for approximately a minute before turning on her heel and walking out of their apartment.

Natalia assessed the twist in her gut, the unsettled feeling that rode under her skin. It had been there now for a while, since the very beginning of her mission in London. Since she had met Jimmy something had changed. Her training taught her to adapt, to become a hardened blank surface for her to write an identity on, but Hydra sent her on this mission unprepared. Lacking all the facts wasn’t enough to crack her hardened blank surface. But the Soldier... He was something different.

Their apartment was on a dodgier side of London, but the winter easing into Spring had brought bright blossoms to the trees along the sidewalk. The warmth of the bright day made her squint and she followed her muscle memory more than her eyes to get to the corner coffeeshop. 

Her diminished sight did little to lessen the overwhelming instinct that someone in her vicinity had their eyes on her. 

She kept her stride purposeful, pushing open the door to the shop and letting the wash of noise appear to distract her, as the tail continued to follow her, perched somewhere that allowed them to continue their observations even as she stood at the cashier. The tail must’ve known she’d come here; she hadn’t felt the gaze before now, they had not cased her apartment or routine before now. They only knew she’d be here because they’d met with her here before. Hydra.

Her eyes flicked up to the apartment complex across the street. The rood was empty but a curtain two flights from the top fell back into place a second too late. She raised her chin, a minute gesture and then left the shop. Before she even turned the corner block a person fell into stride on the sidewalk next to her. “Widow.”

She remained silent, turned the corner that led them away from the Rovers and their apartment. “Who are you?”

“You know who I am and who I’m with.” His reply to her question was in Russian and the language sounded almost foreign to her ears, it had been that long since she heard it. “We need you to return the asset to Headquarters.” 

Her body wanted to freeze, but she kept her feet moving, appearing unaffected. “I was unaware the asset needed to be managed in such a way.”

“He didn’t, before.”

“But it’s been over three years since he was last reprogrammed. Have you called him in?”

A woman with a stroller approached from the opposite end of the sidewalk and the Hydra agent waited for them to pass before he replied,“That’s classified.”

She paused, intentionally, to look at the man from under her eyelashes. “You have called him in, and he failed to return. When? Why? His mission was to return with the stone. The stone is still in transit.”

“The stone is in London. The Soldier received the call twenty minutes ago, he has not reached out to us. He will collect the stone tonight; then you will return him and it to us.”

They approached an intersection and the man paused before turning and slipping away. Natalia employed all of her training to continue to walk through the intersection. She had no idea where she was going, and it didn’t matter. The heavy eyes of her tail had disappeared. It was just her and her thoughts on a bright spring day in London. 

This was it. This was the end for the two of them. 

Her throat clenched around the thought and she stumbled a little in her next step. She’d go back to Hydra, he’d presumably be frozen until his next mission. That could be weeks, or months or years. 

And in the back of her mind she had known this- knew that she was Penelope and he was Jimmy, that was how it was supposed to be. But it was all blown to shrapnel when it became something between Natalia and the Soldier.   _ He will collect the stone tonight; then you will return him and it to us. _

He’d go willingly. Wouldn’t he? Hydra’s pride, their asset, their Winter Soldier. Hydra didn’t seem to think so. She and he, they had something, and she wasn’t self-sacrificing enough to deny she had a hold over him. But it was nothing next to Hydra. 

She had returned to the coffeeshop and opened the door into its heavy din. Her coffee from earlier had grown cold in her hand, but she used it as a prop to sit in one of the shop's armchairs and blend into the afternoon. 

Numb. That was what she felt right now. Natalia wondered if that was what heartache should feel like, a cold wash of reality. It froze the memories in the sun from just this afternoon along with the many before, of afternoons on their couch, making breakfast or sharing a beer. Frozen. Already in mourning.

By the time she returned to the apartment it was empty. The door echoed when she closed it, and the hardwood floor creaked under her weight as she walked backed towards their bedroom. His clothes still hung in the closet and he had left a few of his weapons. In the living room the glass he had been drinking from before the Expo still rested on the end table and she tried not to think. 

He may return, he may not. It was out of her hands. 

_ He will collect the stone tonight; then you will return him and it to us. _

Those were her orders now. 

She sat on the couch, and tried not to remember all the times they’d fooled around on it. Her eyes trained on the front door. The sun outside the window curled along the sky until it fell below the horizon. Each hour that passed was another struggle to keep her mind blank. Her arms rested on her thighs and every time she felt a memory brush against her mental walls, she gripped her palms together. 

The way he looked at her sometimes like he was trying to figure out a puzzle. His easy smile, turning into a devilish smirk. She gripped her palms together.

This was it. This was over. She would put it into a box in her memory, locked away to be opened when she needed to assume an identity, capture a mark. She was the Black Widow, she twisted webs around herself so that all that remained was what she wanted to show the world.

She gripped her palms together. Time passed.

The first thing she heard were his heavy footprints. Her breath caught in her throat and she didn’t exhale it until he pushed open the door. His eyes honed in on hers, and he crossed the room in three long strides. She was on her feet before she made the decision to move and his presence answered most of her questions. He wasn’t supposed to be here, but he was and now she had her orders.

He gripped her clenched hands, forced them apart and wrapped her arms around his waist. Closing the space between them by pulling her into a hug.

“What happened?” she whispered into his chest.

“The stone, I have it.”

“Here?”

He nodded. 

“Hydra,” she began, but he cut off her words.

“They came for you didn’t they?” The way his steel eyes narrowed, observing every turn of her lip and twitch of her eye. She had no intention of lying to him but doubted she even could if she tried.

“How’d you know?”

“You were waiting.”

“You need to go,” she whispered the words, broke her arms from around his waist and pushed at his chest. A light, feeble attempt that she immediately contradicted by pulling him close. “They told me to-” His shirt muffled her words and she snapped her mouth shut, she had been so close to betraying Hydra and it hadn’t even been a decision, just instinct. He was her center now, had been for a long time. 

“They want you to bring me in?”

She stilled in his arms. It was answer enough. His arms gripped her close, and she breathed in the skin of his neck as the scruff of his chin brushed against her hair. “I’ll leave tonight,” he said through a ragged exhale. “You won’t have to drag me in, Natalia. I’ll go, willingly, if only to avoid that. But we’ll have one more night, I’ll see to Hydra in the morning.”

A surge of emotion she wanted to label as relief coursed through her at his words, but it was tinted with anger, frustration, pain. Natalia felt so much that she pushed away from him, far enough to detangle her arms from between them, and she threw them around his neck. His hands came to life, running up and down her back as she connected their gaze. She wanted to say something, in some way let him know how much he had come to mean to her but the words caught in her throat and when his hand came up to caress her cheek, all she could do was exhale a shaky breath and let him kiss her. 

And the next morning when she woke up in their bed alone, she looked over to his empty closet and the space where his weapons once stood. His side of the bed was cold and she bet the used glass on the end table was back in the cupboard. She trailed her fingers against his side of the bed as it all fell away, their bed, their apartment, their life together. 

The chirping birds outside the window brought with them another bright spring day as Natalia tried to restructure, rebuild, she was marble and her mission was complete. Her fist curled around the sheets as she whispered into the empty room. “Hail Hydra.”


End file.
